


Femme Fatale

by SSAEmilyHotchner



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSAEmilyHotchner/pseuds/SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily needs someone to go with her to a gala being thrown by her mother. Of course, by fate, the only person available is Hotch. Will they be able to hide their feelings for each other? Or will their emotions break free and take complete control?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The Dancefloor

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say that there is no way I could have ever written this story without reading "the Rake's Revenge", by Gail Ranstrom. It's an awesome book, and it was my inspiration. Hope you enjoy!

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" JJ asked Emily, gazing out the jet at the twinkling stars.

"My mother is hosting a gala, and of course, she's forcing me to go," Emily answered, sighing.

"That's not so bad," JJ commented.

"It is when I don't have a date and my mother decides to play matchmaker," Emily retorted.

"Oh…then I see what you mean." JJ paused. "Well, why don't you ask one of them to go?" she asked, motioning to the four men behind them.

Emily thought it over. "That's not a bad idea." She turned to them. "Hey, do any of you have plans this Saturday?"

Reid looked up from the chess game he was playing. "I'm going to visit my mom…"

Dave sighed and leaned back in his seat in exhaustion. "Book signing," he said in explanation.

Morgan looked at her. "I don't…oh, wait, I'm going to Chicago for my sister Sarah's birthday."

Emily frowned. This was not going well. She locked eyes with her last hope. "What about you, Hotch?"

He shook his head. "I'm not doing anything. Why?" he asked.

She closed her eyes in relief. "Would you mind going to a gala with me? I wouldn't stress so much, but I'm really not in the mood for my mom to find, oh, God knows, some Prime Minister's son for me to date. So, please?"

He chuckled. "Sure, it's not a problem. You said this Saturday?"

She nodded. "Yeah, at seven."

"I'll be there."

"Thank you so much!" She turned back to JJ, who was grinning. "What?"

"You and Hotch…" she said vaguely.

"What about us?" she challenged.

"Oh, come on, Emily. I know you like him," JJ said.

Emily hissed. "Say it louder, will you?"

JJ smirked. "Sorry. But when it's over, you better tell me every single detail."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Nothing's going to happen, Jayje."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

~.~.~

Emily walked over to her door as a knock resounded through her spacious living room. As the door swung open, Hotch's breath caught in the back of his throat. He couldn't take his eyes off her; she was glorious. Her ivory skin was luminescent in the light, and her face was framed by wisps and curling tendrils of ebony silk. She was wearing a dark red, floor-length dress made of silky material, and a slit crept up to her thigh, revealing her smooth legs and matching stilettos. All in all, she looked amazing.

He was finally able to find his voice. "Wow. You look…wow," he said lamely.

Her smile grew wider. "Thank you. I'll take your speechlessness as a good sign. As for you…" She reached forward and straightened his bow tie, appraising his tuxedo. "Not bad at all," she complimented.

He smiled. Actually smiled. "Are you ready?"

"Definitely."

~.~.~

Hotch and Emily walked into the elegantly decorated ballroom, his hand carefully placed at the small of her back. The room was filled with political diplomats, young and old, and Hotch wasn't surprised when several men turned to look at Emily almost hungrily. She seemed not to notice, and Hotch realized that she was probably used to all the unwanted male attention. They made their way to an empty table and sat down, nodding politely at anyone who glanced at them.

"And my mother has outdone herself yet again," Emily said sardonically.

"That I can see," Hotch said, looking around at all the people. Barely seconds later, they were approached by Elizabeth Prentiss.

They stood. "Hello, Mother," Emily said brusquely, giving her mother a short hug.

"Emily," the Ambassador greeted. "You came."

"As I said I would." She turned to Hotch. "Mother, this is my friend, Aaron Hotchner. Hotch, Elizabeth Prentiss," she introduced, watching as they shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you," Hotch said politely.

"Same," Elizabeth replied. "Emily, there's someone I would like you to meet," she told her daughter.

Emily shot Hotch a look. "I told you so," she mouthed. He smirked. As a handsome, young bachelor was waved over, Emily said, in a low voice, I'm with someone, Mother."

Elizabeth ignored her. "Emily, this is James Brennan, the son of the British Ambassador. James, this is my daughter, Emily."

James shook her hand. "It's a pleasure," he said.

She smiled. "Yes, it is. But, I'm sorry, I'm here with someone."

"Him?" the Ambassador asked pointedly, looking at Hotch.

"Yes," she answered curtly.

As if to further prove her point, Hotch stood and extended his hand. "Dance with me?" he asked, smiling.

She gladly placed her hand in his. "Of course," she answered, following him onto the dance-floor.

He placed his hands on her slim waist. "You weren't kidding when you said your mom liked playing matchmaker."

Chuckling, one arm came around his neck, the other remaining folded against his chest. "I know. I love her, but sometimes she just drives me crazy."

As he pulled her closer, he breathed in her unique scent. It was citrusy, with the slight edge of something sweet. It was subtle, feminine, and very Emily. He cleared his throat. "I don't think I said this earlier, but…you look beautiful, Emily," he commented quietly.

Her eyes sparkled. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it seconds later, as if she didn't know what to say.

"What is it?" he asked, unable to hold back his smile. There was something about her that always made him happy.

Her lips stretched into a heart-stopping smile. "You called me Emily," she pointed out, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

"I did," he agreed, leaning forward so his lips were mere inches from hers. "Which means that I want you to call me Aaron," he added.

"Aaron…"

He closed the distance between them, their lips brushing together softly in a synchronized pattern. She sighed contentedly. After breaking apart briefly, and gazing into each other's expressive eyes, they kissed again, this time more boldly. Hotch let his lips gradually drift to her neck.

"Do you want to go some place more private?" Emily asked quietly.

He nodded. "Lead the way."


	2. In The Garden

She took his hand and guided him outside, to the well groomed, empty garden. There was very little light; the only sources were a couple of lamps, and beams emanating from the glowing ballroom. Masked in darkness, his lips met hers once more, tentative at first, then firmer, more certain. His arms tightened slightly and drew her up against the solid wall of his chest, her breasts aching for the contact. Something stirred in her center, causing her to melt in his embrace.

Emily ended up pressed against the wall of the building, with no recollection of how she got there. She felt Aaron's hand trailing up her leg, bunching her dress higher. Although he already had her craving his touch, and desperately wanted -no, needed- to feel him inside her, she voiced the question on her mind.

"What are we doing?" she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

"Tempting fate." Laughter floated on the wind from the inside of the building. "And fate has taken the challenge." He stopped suddenly and pulled back to look at her. "Emily, I'm sorry. If you don't want this, we can stop -"

"No. No, trust me, I want this," she assured. "I'm just afraid that someone will wander into the garden and see us."

"Are you telling me that the infamously rebellious Emily Prentiss doesn't like taking risks?" he teased.

She grinned slyly. "Just shut up and kiss me," she answered.

He obeyed, doing that and more. Undoing his belt. he let his pants drop to the floor. Emily closed her eyes in anticipation as his tongue slipped past her lips, eliciting a soft moan.

The darkness heightened her senses, making her more aware of the size of his hands as they splayed out on her back, of the masculine smell of his cologne, and the steady thump of his heartbeat in the stillness. Carefully, he moved his hand back to the vulnerable heat at her center. She exhaled with an involuntary cry of encouragement when he took off her panties and found her core. She whimpered with pleasure as he repeatedly invaded and withdrew his fingers from her passage.

Her breathing quickened until she was panting, unable to catch her breath due to the tumultuous sensations washing over her.

Aaron's voice rasped against her ear in short, breathless gasps. "My God…you're so hot and ready…and so wet…"

"Don't stop," she begged.

His reply was a low, deep groan, as if he were giving up his last hold on control. His hand left her long enough to fumble with his own clothing, and then his thick, hard member took the place of his fingers. He rocked against her, slowly letting her adjust. Covering her mouth with his, he drove deeper, impaling her to his hilt and swallowing her surprised moan. She threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out. After all, they did have to be quiet.

His thrusts quickened, and the initial pain dulled to a pleasant ache, rapidly morphing into need again as his rhythm drew out passionate desire from both of them. She met him thrust for thrust, moving her hips perfectly to take him as deep as possible.

Emily came minutes later, pulling Aaron over with her. Her breathing slowed, her breasts aching and skin humming. Although it had been amazing, it had been too quick and she still felt somewhat incomplete.

She wanted more. And so did Aaron.

Slowly, he withdrew from her, eliciting a small moan of protest. After smoothing the skirt of her dress down over her legs and redressing, he held her in his arms and gazed down at her.

"Come home with me," he pleaded.

She kissed the base of his throat. "Yes," she whispered simply. "I was hoping you would say that.


	3. In The Bedroom

They were barely able to make it through the door of his apartment. He pulled her against him, smiling when she lifted her arms to fit around his neck. Unutterably sweet, her lips softened and parted to accept him. Her hear, her scent, and her taste combined to bring his senses to the boiling point. "Emily, you're driving me insane," he said huskily.

"Look who's talking," she answered. "The only thing you did to me last time was leave me wanting more," she confessed.

"Have a care or you'll get it." Dear Lord, what had he done to deserve this tempting wanton? There was not even a trace of doubt in him mind that she was a femme fatale; an alluring and seductive woman whose charms ensnare her lovers in bonds of irresistible desire.

"I was beginning to wonder what it would take."

That breathless challenge was enough to fuel his desire. Pressing his mouth to hers yet again, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, kicking the door shut in the process. Laying her down gently on his large bed, he set to work undressing her. However, her dress was proving to be somewhat difficult; the zipper kept getting stuck.

Emily quickly undid it. "Sorry…" she murmured. "I wasn't planning on dressing for seduction."

He chuckled at her blatant lie. "But yet, you did."

She seized the moment and pushed his shirt and jacket off his shoulders in one sweep, her fingers skimming lightly over his skin. He shivered in the cool air, feeling slightly vulnerable with his barely visible scars exposed to her. "Do they still hurt?" she asked faintly.

He shook his head. "Only in my mind."

She traced them with her fingers. "They have a terrible beauty," she mused. "Like you, Aaron Hotchner. They define you. Strong…courageous…enduring." She placed a line of kisses down the worst of the striations, causing him to gasp before twining his fingers through her hair and cupping the back of her head, holding her to him like a lifeline. Need rose in him, white-hot and urgent. With a moan, he lifted her head from his chest and veered her mouth with a bruising kiss. She seemed to understand his need and met his intensity with her own. He hurriedly got rid of her lacy bra, freeing her breasts. Her enticing scent wafted up to him from the heat of her flesh, filling his senses with the awareness of her - as if he needed a reminder that Emily's body was next to his, soft and yielding. Waiting. Urging. Aaron took one firm, rose-tinted tip into his mouth and nibbled with gentle insistence. She cried out, dropping her head back onto the pillows in delight and pulling him down with one hand to draw him closer.

"Please," she sighed.

He gladly obliged, pressing her into the mattress and cherishing her other breast until both were puckered and hard with arousal. She was beginning to write with pleasure, and he knew that it wouldn't be long until she would be weeping with the need of him. He wanted that. He wanted Emily crying his name, begging him to take her, gasping with her orgasm, and still aching to have him inside her. Finally, he thrust into her, his cock stretching and filling her tight pussy. When he began moving, the friction was amazingly blissful; like electricity coursing through her veins. She arched closer to him, wanting to take him deeper.

"Oh, God…Emily…you feel too good," Hotch moaned.

"Hmm…Aaron…faster, please…"

Who was he to deny her request? Of course, he willingly obeyed, picking up speed and causing Emily to moan louder. "Let it take you over," he said, as he felt her muscles clenching around his manhood, knowing that she was so close. "Let it flood your senses."

Seconds later, in a burst of heat, light, and color, long waves of ecstasy washed over her, spreading outward in ever expanding ripples.

She had arrived.

~.~.~

Aaron Hotchner woke up early the next morning, surprised to find a warm, naked body lying next to him.

"So, it hadn't been a dream?" he thought, gazing at the dark haired, sleeping temptress.

He glanced around the room, smiling at what he saw. Emily's dress was lying on the floor in a pool of red silk, her stilettos nearby. Various clothing items pertaining to his tuxedo were scattered everywhere. His boxers were thrown somewhere in the room, and her bra and panties were there, too, resting on an adjacent chair.

She had been his undoing. She had been the devil, leaving him with not a single ounce of self-control, and he had loved every second of it. He still wanted her.

He couldn't get enough of her.

"Was this love?" he thought vaguely. He'd had feelings for her for years. The woman could render him both speechless and breathless with just one smile. She had no idea of her power over him, and thank God for that.

Aaron pressed kisses to her bare shoulders, eventually trailing onto her neck. Emily stirred, stretching slightly, roused from sleep by his gentle ministrations. She brushed tangled, chocolate brown curls out of her eyes. Her impossibly long lashes fluttered, then opened, the sensual lethargy still shimmering in her eyes. She smiled up at him.

"Aaron…?" she asked, picking her head up from its comfortable position on his chest and looking at him sleepily.

He kissed her nose, grinning at the girlish giggle that followed. "Emily," he greeted softly. "Good morning."

"Hmm…good morning." She stretched again, letting out a quiet moan.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing really. All of my muscles are sore," she said nonchalantly.

He smiled slyly. "Well, I guess it's a good thing that we don't really have anywhere to go today, so you won't have to do that much walking." He moved just a bit and winced at the sudden ache. "Now that you mention it, my muscles are pretty stiff, too."

A grin threatened to stretch across her perfect lips. "Looks like someone could use a massage."

"I like the way you think."

She chuckled and moved to straddle his waist as he turned to lay on his stomach. As she began to skillfully knead his shoulders, all he could notice were her hard, peaked nipples pressing into his back. She slowly and languorously peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses over the contours of his extremely fit body.

"That's not much of a massage," he criticized teasingly. "It's way too distracting, and even more tempting."

She smiled saucily. "I know. It's not. It's just another way for me to seduce you," she admitted bluntly.

Turning so their bodies were perfectly aligned, chest to chest, hips to hips, waist to waist, he challenged, "Well then, by all means. Bring it on."

"Oh, I will," she promised, leaning forward to lick the outline of his lips agonizingly slowly. "You know I will."


End file.
